The Boy with the Bread and the Girl with the Thread
by songwriter16
Summary: ON HIATUS. "The doctors said I should tell this to myself to get over my family's death. My name is Loretta Pace. I am sixteen years old. I was a seamstress's daughter. District 12 was destroyed. My best friend Peeta Mellark was taken by the Capitol. It is believed he is dead. I think they're wrong." 74th Hunger Games to Mockingjay.
1. The Reaping

**Hello! This is a story I've been working on for awhile! I hope you like it! One review=new chapter!**

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**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any copyrights to Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games.**

* * *

Hey there, my name is Loretta Pace, one of the seamstress's daughters. Although my father is from the Seam, where we would be living if it wasn't for my mother's best friend, I have the same blonde hair and blue eyes as my mother. I live with my two sisters, Silken and Ravine. Silken, who I call Sill for short, is just three and the sweetest little girl in the enire country of Panem. Ravine is fourteen and about as tough as concrete. Our family tailor shop is right across from the Mellark bakery. I go there every three days for bread. I try to go there after school because Peeta Mellark, the youngest son of the baker, usually works then, but I always see him at school. We've been best friends since we were just five years old. I've always hung out with him and our friend Delly Cartwright. Katniss Everdeen is alone a lot of the time at school. She does spend some time with Madge, the mayor's daughter, but she really only has one friend, Gale Hawthorne, who's a class favorite for all of the girls. Even I had a bit of a crush on him once. That didn't last long. I've almost always liked Peeta.

Uh oh...I know what you're thinking...another great lost love story about a girl who's in love with her best friend. If you think that, you can stay and see for yourself, but you probably already know the end to the tale...but if that's so, why not stay? There's no harm in hearing what happens during the Hunger Games in the district.

Tomorrow is reaping day; a dreaded 24 hours in District 12. I may be in the Merchant's side of the district, but that doesn't save me from getting my name drawn out of the giant glass fishbowl by the ever eccentric Effie Trinket. And who can forget the drunken madman/mentor Haymitch Abernathy? He's always been a sort of comic relief in the sullen, darkened hour of doom. Sorry for being such a black rain cloud, but it's true. We're basically being sentenced to death. Thankfully, our trio (Peeta, Delly, and I) have not been split up due to the Hunger Games. Hopefully this year won't be any different than any other.

Anyway, my story is starting from the day before the reaping; late afternoon.

As soon as I enter the Mellark bakery, I'm cheerfully greeted with the smell of baking bread and cinnamon cookies; a scent that clings permanently to Peeta.

Peeta's sliding a tray of goat cheese and apple tarts onto a display rack in the counter. He looks up at the sound of the door clicking shut. He smiles when he sees it's me.

"Hey, Loretta," he greets, straightening himself and wiping his hands on his apron.

"Long time no see," I joke. Peeta starts washing his hands.

"Ready for the reaping?" he asks. I sigh in response. I hate the reaping.

"Oh, of course," I reply sarcastically. "Who wouldn't be ready for a death sentence?"

He chuckles and dries his hands. He sets to work preparing my usual order. I decide to inspect the new cakes in the display case next to the iced cookies, all decorated by Peeta himself.

"You know that cake my father always bakes for the after the reaping celebration?" he says, cutting a loaf of bread.

"Yeah?" I nod.

"My father finally let me make it this year," he announces proudly. I look up in delight and shock. His father is very particular about that cake.

"Are you serious?!" I exclaim. "Peeta, that's awesome!"

"Isn't it?" he responds. He then looks about catiously. He stops slicing the bread and looks up the stairs in the very back room. Peeta opens the small door at the side counter and beckons me in. He glances around again.

"Come on back, I'll show you," he prompts. I shake my head.

"Are you sure? Every time I've gone behind the counter for any reason, your mother has kicked me out of the shop." I give him a skeptical stare. I slowly step towards him. Peeta suddenly grabs my hand and pulls me forward with a jolt. I accidentally bump into him, our faces inches apart. I quickly move back and sideways. It reminds me of a time when Peeta once liked me back...when we were both fourteen; two years ago.

He was walking me home from school on the last day before summer break. We had stayed after for an hour just to talk with Delly. She had to stay longer so we went on home without her. Our fingers intertwined, we trudged on, savoring the moment.

"Peeta, you really should get home," I had urged. "Your mother isn't happy when you're late for your shift at the bakery."

"It's okay," he had replied with a smile, coming to a stop at the back of our tailor shop, across from the back of his family's bakery.

"Thanks for walking me home, Peeta," I had said shyly. "It was really thoughtful of you." I gently let go of his hand.

"It was no problem at all."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah...see you tomorrow."

He smiled again, almost hesitating to say something else. I grinned at him and turned and started toward the steps leading up to the staircase inside. Peeta stood there for a moment, then hollered at me to wait a moment. I spun around and he was just reaching for my hands, our faces only inches apart.

"I just thought I'd tell you that you're very special to me. Thanks you for being so understanding of my life, me...everything. You're a really amazing person," he whispered sweetly. Then he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. It lasted for a couple seconds, but it felt like forever. Then he turned and ran back to the bakery. It was one of the best days of my life. He made me laugh, even then; especially because his voice would rise and fall in a funny way. He was just as sweet as he is now. He made me feel like the most fortunate person in all of District Twelve.

I felt this way for about a thirtieth of a second. Peeta grinned, just like the day he walked me home, and took my hand. He pulled me into the back room. Just outside of the decorating room, he tells me to shut my eyes. I squeeze them closed as he steers me inside.

"Open them," says Peeta quietly. I do.

"Peeta," I whisper, "the cake is magnificent." And it is. It is a towering six layer cake with white and sunset orange frosting. There are several ginormus ruby red iced roses sprinkled throughout the pastry. The designs are quite complicated...not just swirls, intricate patterns, even pictures of different flowers and the district symbol. The cake is a reminder of something beautiful in a time of darkness. I make my way around the two foot area base.

"Is it good enough?" he asks. I widen my eyes at him. GOOD?!

"Is it good enough?! Peeta, it is the most spectacular cake you've ever made! And I mean ever!" I cry. He quickly rushes over and slaps his hand over my mouth.

"Ssshhh! Be quiet!" he shushes. I remove his hand from my lips. "My mother's up there!" He points to the staircase to the right. "Besides, it's not done yet. I have to finish it tomorrow since we don't have enough sugar to make more icing."

We exit the room and go back to the front of the bakery; past the enormus ovens and dough bowls. Peeta finishes my order and hands me my bread. I pay him and start to leave through the front, ready for the walk back around to my house.

"See you tomorrow for the traditional strawberries," I say, putting my hand on the doorknob and waving goodbye.

"Just a minute, Loretta," says Peeta, halting my progress. I turn and go back over the counters as he digs around the baking racks.

"Here," he says, handing me a blue iced cinnamon cookie. It is my absolute favorite kind of cookie. The blue icing was the exact color of his eyes.

"For me?" I reply.

"Of course not, it's for the mold on the bread in the back dumpster," he jokes. I laugh. "I know they're you're favorite. Just take it. And why not exit out the back? It's closer to home." I thank him for the cookie and say goodbye once more.

Is this the last time I'll see Peeta? Hopefully the Hunger Games will not break us apart.

* * *

I recall one day when I was eleven. It was a bitterly damp, chilly day. I was staring out the window to the street below. I was supposed to be practicing my hand stitching, but I had pricked my finger one too many times. I saw many people I knew pass by...Delly, Mr. Mellark (who went into the bakery), Flora, my mother (hopefully she didn't see my dilly-dallying at the window!)...then a weak, frail, small-boned Katniss Everdeen stumbles into view. The poor girl was weak and wet; most likely soaked to the skin from the pebble sized raindrops. She staggered a bit as she walked. I thought she was cold, but now I see that it was starvation ripping away at her life and her empty belly. In my ignorance, I was tempted to get her a coat to help ease the icy weather storming in all directions at her. I sorted through my small, neatly folded pile of clothes. I chose my warmest coat and went back over to the window to make sure she was still there. I saw Katniss standing near the back of the Mellark bakery. Peeta came out with what I believe was a red welt on his face. He was holding burnt bread. He tossed it toward Katniss and went inside. She hurridly scooped it up in her bony hands and scurried home. I knew from that day that Peeta Mellark had a crush on Katniss Everdeen.

At least, that's what I was sure of until two springs ago when I was fourteen. I know he liked me for awhile. There was something about the way he looked at me for those four short months that's been different than all the other years I've known him. He would walk me home everyday after school, help me with shop displays, carry heavy boxes from the Capitol, etc, etc. My mother was convinced he and I would marry someday. That all ended when I turned fifteen in the middle of the summer. Peeta worked everyday at the bakery. Serving customers and baking bread from early morning to late afternoon. We grew apart. I hardly ever saw him. Once school started up, we got closer again, but not as close as we were that early spring. None of us have ever had our names fished out of those glass bowls. I'm seriously terrified that one of us will be sentenced to die this 74th Hunger Games.

* * *

Reaping day has dawned silently as ever. I head over to the bakery again for our tradtional fresh cheese buns and, if Katniss and Gale have been there, fresh strawberries from the fields past the elecetric fence. I walk in the front of the bakery to find Mr. Mellark behind the counter; bustling about for a short morning of business.

"Good morning, Mr. Mellark," I greet as cheerfully as possible. Reaping day always gets me a little depressed. I don't want to see people I don't even know sent off to die.

"Hello, Loretta," he says, giving me a small smile. Mr. Mellark is a quiet soul, only comfortable around those he knows well. I've been around him for many years and am like a daughter to him. "How's everything at the tailors?"

"It's going really well right now, to be honest. We finished a huge job yesterday," I respond as he prepares the cheese buns for packaging.

"Did you? What was it?"

"The head peacekeeper had us make a dress for his mother in the Capitol. It was quite lovely. She even shipped us a box of materials she thought were pretty and wanted one for the frock."

"I'll bet you were paid a ton."

"Oh, yes, a lot."

I glanced through the door past the ovens. A dead squirrel is hanging off of a shelf by its matted, scruffy tail. I chuckle.

"Katniss and Gale came by, I'm guessing?"

Mr. Mellark set the paper bag with the buns on the counter and followed my gaze. He, too, chuckles.

"You've guessed correctly. Mariella will never let me trade when she's around." I smile and look around. Why he married Mrs. Mellark, I'll never know. She's a rough, cruel sort of woman with piercing gray eyes that seems to know exactly what you're thinking.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask.

"He's upstairs getting our rolls ready for midday."

Mr. Mellark hands me a box and the bag of cheese buns. Wait, why is there a small box?

"Um, Mr. Mellark, sir, I didn't order whatever's in the box." I dig the money out of my pocket.

"Strawberries."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't bring extra money. I'll just run home and¬~"

"There's no charge. Peeta wanted you to have some. He knows how much you and Ravine enjoy them."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as sure can be."

"Thank you very much, sir. Goodbye. And may the odds be ever in your favor." He laughs. It's nice to hear that on this sort of day.

"Bye. You, too."

I hurry around the row of shops and houses to home. As I go, I ponder what would happen if Peeta and I ended up in the Hunger Games. Oh please let the odds be in our favor this year!

My family and I eat our lunch (rabbit stew, thanks to Katniss and Gale, and cheese buns) in silence and get ready for the Reaping; bathing and dressing our nicest. Once we're ready, we head out the door and follow the crowd to the town square. I sign in and go stand with the other sixteen year old girls. I'm right next to the rope that divdes the sixteen year old boys and girls. I stand next to the rope, hoping Peeta will stand near me. I need his support. In fact, I'm hoping Delly will be near us, too. Thankfully, Peeta does come and stand next to me.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," he mutters. I grin back nervously.

"The same for you," I say. Then he reaches across the ropes and grabs my hand. I realize it's not a sweet, nice sort of grip. We both are clinging to each other tightly. Who can blame us? We might be sent to our deaths!

I glance about to see if I can recognize faces. Delly is all the way at the front of the section, fidgeting anxiously. Katniss is kitty-corner to us on the right. Everyone is staring straight ahead in stillness and saying nothing; as if mute. I can see my parents and Sill standing away from the ropes, free from the pain and worry of getting picked. Sill, just being three, doesn't quite grasp the concept, but knows something not very happy is going on around her. I peer between shoulders behind me and spot Ravine, so small and harsh. She may be strong, but I don't know if she could stand being away from Sill and my parents.

As soon as the clock strikes the dreaded two pm, Mayor Undersee tells of how Panem was created and how the Hunger Games were established for punishment for all of the twelve districts from the civil war that took place. Then he reads off the victor list from District 12. There are exactly two out of seventy three Games. The only one still left alive is Haymitch Abernathy, the senseless, drunk halfwit. He hobbles out onstage, almost losing his balance in the process. We give him a halfhearted applause as he crashes into a chair. He seems to get very confused and tries to give our spokesperson, the Capitol citizen with the most outlandish fashion sense in the world, Effie Trinket, a hug. She shrugs him off with a disgusted looks on her face. Pulling herself together, she trots up to the podium and gives us her signature phrase that I'm certain almost everyone mouths along with her.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Then she yammers on about how honored she is to be here. I roll my eyes. Everyone knows she's not honored at all to be in District 12. Effie is wishing she was promoted to a better district where she doesn't have to see misery and poorly dressed people every year.

She finishes her speech and walks daintily over to one of the giant glass fishbowls.

"Ladies first!" she remarks cheerily. She digs her hand into the filled-to-the-brim bowl and pulls out a single slip of paper. She strides back to the podium, smoothing out the name she will sentence to the Games. She reads the words out in a loud, clear voice.

"Primrose Everdeen."

No, I thought, my heart stopping as the crowd parts to let Prim through. No, no, oh please, no. Not someone I know. Please let me have heard wrong!

Unfortunately, I've heard correctly. Prim makes her way up to the stage. I put my head down and close my eyes, almost letting a tear drip out the corner. I'm friends with Prim at school. She's quite a nice girl and always provides me with encouraging words and pleasant conversations. Peeta tightens his grip. He is tense with worry, I can feel it. Katniss lets out a cry.

"Prim!" her voice cracks. "Prim!"

The others stand aside and clear a path to Prim. Katniss reaches her just before her foot comes down on the first step.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she gasps. Peeta mutters something inaudible. It sounds almost like Katniss, don't...I instantly feel sympathy for him and for Katniss. To be completely honest, I'm not really that surprised she took Prim's place. Peeta has his head drooped, his hand clutching mine tighter than ever. For a split second, I don't feel sympathy for them at all...but the turmoil of the whole situation brings me to my senses and back to reality. How would I feel if Peeta was chosen? I don't blame him for feeling the way he does now.

"Lovely!" coos Effie. Then she turns the microphone away to speak to the mayor. Prim and Katniss stand below, looking anxious and shocked. As soon as what seems to be an okay from Mayor Undersee, Katniss starts up the stairs, sealing her fate as a Hunger Games tribute. Prim screams, holding Katniss and telling her not to go on. Katniss tells her to let go and Gale comes to take Prim away. Gale picks up the youngest Everdeen as she thrashes around in his arms. She fights like mad to get back to Katniss. Effie seems pleased as punch.

"Well bravo! That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?" She giggles in amusement. "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

No one claps for her. No one wants to. Katniss is very respected by the community, not only for her hunting, but for her family; especially her late father. I decide to give her a proper farewell. I place my three middle fingers on my lips and hold them out to her. Peeta follows my example. Soon enough, everyone in District 12 does the same.

Haymitch ruins the moment. He staggers over to Katniss in a drunken confusion.

"Look at her!" he hollers. "Look at this one!" He throws an arm around her. Poor Katniss! He must smell absolutely vile! "Lots of..." Haymitch hesitates, thinking for the right word in his stupid state of mind. "Spunk! More than you!" He hobbles and sways, releasing Katniss from a death grip and staggers to the front of the stage. He points to the cameras, all eyes on him.

"More than you!" he shouts accusingly. Haymitch stumbles and cascades off the edge of the stage. Peacekeepers whisk him away on a stretcher. When the attention turns to Katniss and Effie once again, Katniss seems more composed, readying herself for whomever Effie picks to die with her.

"What an exciting day!" says Effie happily, straightening her bright pink wig. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" She places one hand on her head (most likely to keep her pink wig in place), scurries over to the other glass bowl, picks the first one on top, and hurries back to the podium. She reads the name in the same voice she read Prim's in. The world then comes crashing down in waves of fire around my face.

"Peeta Mellark."


	2. Split

**Hello readers! I know only one of you has actually followed. Thank you tworoadsdiverged! (: If only I got some reviews from you readers...I want to know if you like this fanfic or not. Tell me anything you think I could do better or something you enjoyed. ONE REIVEW=ONE CHAPTER!**

**Let's move on in this story, alright? (:**

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**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the _Hunger Games _which was created by Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

Chapter 2: Split

I remember the first day I met Peeta. We were both five years old. It was lunchtime at school and I had a thermos of fresh milk. I was having a difficult time pouring the milk out into my little cup. I had spilled about a third of it when a hand reached out and tried to grab the thermos. I pulled away, sloshing a few more drops of milk onto the table. In a panic, I raised my head to see who was there. It was a boy. I wasn't used to talking to boys, but I knew this one in particular was nicer than most of the others. He had light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He always was helping out others in any way he could and settling small disputes between other children. I knew he would help so I cautiously handed him the bottle and let him pour out some milk.

"Thank you," I murmured quietly.

"I'm Peeta," he said kindly. "What's your name?"

"Loretta," I replied. "Do you want some of my milk?"

Peeta nodded shyly. We became good friends that day.

The next day at school, Peeta introduced me to Delly. It was just our trio that hadn't lost someone to the Hunger Games until now.

I see all of the good memories of Peeta flash before my eyes...us sharing the milk...skipping home arm and arm at six years old...him showing me how to bake cheese buns...the special moment when he walked me home at fourteen.

At the announcement of my best friend's name, I gasp and choke on my saliva. I'm in complete shock. Peeta's hand slides out of mine with a quick, gentle squeeze just before he completely lets go.

"Peeta...don't..." I whisper.

He looks back at me, but doesn't say a word. His eyes tell all. They scream it's time for me to go, but don't worry...I'll be back again soon, okay? I nod, tempted to grab his arm and pull him back to me.

He walks through the parted crowd up to the stage. I need Delly back here, right now. I'm about to burst into loud, racking sobs. His eyes are wide with alarm. He's completely terrified, I can tell, but is trying hard not to show any emotion.

Peeta, Peeta... is all I can think. Peeta, please don't die, please...you're my best friend and I can't afford to lose you...

Effie asks for volunteers. There are none. I know his older brother, Rye, is old enough to volunteer. I'm almost angry with him for not taking Peeta's place.

Then the mayor proceeds in reading the Treaty of Treason. I clamp my teeth together to keep from crying out. My jaw starts to ache, but I tighten it, anyway. I know tears will start to flow as soon as I unclench it. I hear the words of the Treaty, but don't process the meaning. My mind concentrates on other subjects.

I stare at the awkward space between Katniss and Peeta. They don't seem to be listening either. Once Mayor Undersee has finished, Katniss and Peeta shake hands. I look to the dirt. I can't bear to watch anything Peeta does right now. The anthem plays and the new tributes are escorted into the Justice Building by a group of Peacekeepers.

As soon as we are free to go, Delly and I rush over to join the Mellark family heading into the Justice Building to say goodbye. We manage to convince the Peacekeepers that we are cousins of Peeta. They let his father, mother, and brothers go in first. For some reason, Mr. Mellark comes out muttering something about cookies and Katniss Everdeen.

Delly and I sprint into the room after them. The Peacekeepers have to open the door swiftly to make sure we don't smack into them. We run into the room where Peeta is being kept. He's sitting on a plush velvet sofa, his face in his hands. We come to a sudden halt.

"Peeta," Delly says, choking on his name. He raises his head, a worried expression etched across his pale face. He then looks relieved to see us and stands up.

We scurry across the room and plunge into his arms. We hug as a group, sniffling from weeping and comforting each other.

"Don't cry, please don't," Peeta says, his voice quivering with sadness.

"That's not going to happen," I insist. "You're our closest friend. We need this time to cry with you."

After a few minutes, we hear voices echoing in the corridor outside. Peacekeepers.

"Peeta," says Delly, a note of urgency in her voice, "whatever you do, don't stop. Win, come back. Don't forget that we'll always be here waiting for you. I know you can do this. You're strong. Stay alert and please, please remember us here waiting to see you come home."

She gives him a long, hard hug then steps back. I hesitate for a moment, thinking about what I should say.

"Peeta, I know you're just the boy with the bread, but to me-to us you're much more than that. Don't forget we'll always be cheering for you; always be there for you in the end...if only you could frost someone to death..." I encourage, trying to lighten the mood. Peeta gives a half-hearted laugh. I hug him just as long and hard as Delly did.

"Thanks," he whispers as he hugs us again. "You're my best friends. I'm glad my last moments here in District 12 are here with both of you."

The door handle starts to turn and I decide to take a risky chance.

"Peeta, there's something I need to tell you."

"Yeah?"

"I just thought I'd let you know that I've always—"

"_Time to go, miss,"_ a Peacekeeper demands.

"I've always thought of you as my best friend," I finish.

"Time to go, miss," barks the Peacekeeper.

"Bye, Peeta. Do everything you can to come back," I say. Then before Peeta can say another word, I kiss him on the cheek and leave the room. I run down the hallway and catch up with Delly.

Our trio is now split. Who knows how the Games will turn out this year. But Peeta...oh, Peeta, you'll never know what I really feel like.

"He's got to get home again!" Delly sobs outside the Justice Building.

"He said he'll try, Delly. We've just got to believe in him. He can do this!" I say, tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't believe a word I'm saying. Peeta knows it, I know it, Delly knows it, Katniss knows it...the Mellark family will be missing one son by the end of the Hunger Games.

* * *

The walk home took what seemed to be a thousand years. I shook my hair out of its neat braid so it hung around my face, shielding the tears dripping like steady waterfalls.

Dinner is nothing but forks hitting plates. The rest of the town is outside celebrating. The Mellark windows are dark, curtains pulled shut.

I can see other children on the street running in the twilight. They are fighting with large sticks most likely found near the slagheap next to the schoolyard. The miners are off work, milling about keeping the children in check.

"Loretta?" my mother says gently, pulling me out of a pitiful gaze at the Mellark bakery.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Sill?" mother answers.

"Where's Peeta? Why isn't he here? Strawberries? What about cake?" Mother sighs and gives me a look of disappointment.

"He's not here, honey," explains mother softly.

"Why?" demands Sill.

"Because he had to go."

"Go where?"

"He just had to go, Sill. Peeta will be back. He-"

"He's in the Hunger Games, Sill," I finally say.

"Loretta, we don't need to tell her that," scolds father.

"She sees it each year. She should know," I talk back. "Someday she'll be in the reaping. If Peeta dies, she needs to know what really happened. Why hold her off something that is a huge part our life?"

"Loretta, stop it! You do not talk back! We understand you're a bit more upset than the rest of us, but there's no need to-" mother starts.

"I'm not only a bit more upset, mother, I'm miserable! Peeta is my best friend! I do not want to lose someone I've known for eleven years. I know the in and outs of him, and he does to me, too. Have YOU ever lost someone to the Games?" I shout. I start to tear up again. Mother, father, Ravine (who for once is holding her tongue), and Sill are speechless.

"Well, no but-" mother stutters.

"Then don't say I'm only a 'bit more upset!' You wouldn't understand!"

I start to cry even more again then run out of the dining room to me and Ravine's bedroom. I slam the door and crawl into my bed, not caring to change into my pajamas. I bury my head in my pillow, bawling and letting out all of my anger, sorrow, and confusion.

I wake up the next morning with my head aching and eyes feeling dry. I'm still in my clothes from yesterday.

"We hoped you'd be up soon," Ravine says, holding the door wide open with her foot, hands occupied with a bowl and a spoon.

I sit up, rubbing the crusts out of my eyes.

"Hi," I say, my voice feeling sore. "What time is it?"

"About ten thirty."

"Wow, I really was upset. I never sleep in this late."

"Yeah, I know. Mother and father are downstairs working. Sill is playing near the couch and I was making you breakfast," explains Ravine.

"What did you make me?" I inquire.

"Just plain oatmeal with a bit of brown sugar."

"You used the sugar rations?" I exclaim frustratedly.

"Mother said it was okay, considering the way you've been feeling," she confirms as she sets the bowl down on my lap and hands me the spoon. I shovel in a bite of the warm grain. It burns my throat, but I don't care.

"You know, mother and father aren't mad at you for last night," Ravine says quietly. I shove another spoonful into my mouth to keep from answering.

"Mm hm," I mumble.

"You sound so sure of it," she says sarcastically. I finish chewing and swallow.

"They aren't angry with me for all the things I said?" I ask in disbelief.

"Not from what I've heard. From what I can tell, they don't blame you. No one can blame you. You've just lost one of your best friends. You're completely right."

"Are they annoyed with me for talking back?"

"Well, I-I don't know but maybe, I-I...yes." I laugh, forgetting all of the anguish that is to come from the next few weeks.

"I figured so," I respond.

"Are you done already?" says Ravine, glancing at my now empty bowl.

"Yeah, and Ravine?"

"Mm hm?" she mumbles as she starts to exit the room.

"D-do you...do you think Peeta will make it?"

"Um...I don't know, Loretta. I mean, this is the Hunger Games we're talking about. You just never know who has got the skills and~"

"You don't think he'll live, do you?"

"Well, I...no, I don't. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mr. Mellark came to the door last night."

"What did he want?" I inquire.

"He gave us some of the cake Peeta made before he was shipped off to the Capitol. It was the cake he never finished."

I respond by sighing. Ravine leaves and I flop back in my bed. I think of Peeta and what would take place if he ever got back. If he wasn't reaped for the Games, he'd probably be over here with me talking and helping me stock the shelves in our tailor's shop right now; being glad we weren't in the Capitol getting readied for the tribute parade.

Another tear drips out of the corner of my eye. It slides down the side of my face and I wipe it away in frustration. Peeta's in the Capitol right this very moment; or at least he's almost there. I'll probably never see him again.

But isn't there a way that he could pull this off? Doesn't each tribute have a chance? A chance to survive and be the victor? I think suddenly. I sit up again and wipe more teardrops off my cheeks. I'm hit by a feeling...something telling me that Peeta will come home to District 12. I know for a fact I'm not just saying that to cheer myself up. It's not my liking for Peeta that's shining through, it's gut instinct. He'll be back...and something tells me Katniss will too.

* * *

The next day, our old television set clicks on automatically. The tribute parade is today.

Still feeling a bit ill, I settle down on our small, lone sofa next to Sill.

The Captiol symbol appears on the screen of the TV and fades into a shot of the crowd in the Capitol waiting for the parade to begin. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith's voices arrise over the eager cheers of the Capitol residents, booming and echoing in our modest living area.

"Welcome to the 74th Hunger Games tribute parade!" Claudius Templesmith announces. "It is truly an honor to be hosting the parade again this year! What do you say, Caesar?"

"Oh, it is indeed!" Caesar Flickerman agrees. "And look at this crowd! They really want to see these lovely tributes, don't they?"

"It does seem so, doesn't it?" says Templesmith. "I can see the horses! Here comes the first chariot, folks!"

The screen changes to the walkway where the tribute chariots roll out. Claudius Templesmith is correct; the first chariot is on its way out of the tunnel. The whole chariot appears and the District 1 tributes are shown. The crowd goes wild. District 1 is always a favorite.

"Wow, look at those costumes!" says Flickerman in awe. The clothing is absolutely spectacular. The clothes are made out of colorful crystals that display the industry of District 1: luxury.

The names of the tributes appear at the bottom of the screen. The girl's name is Glimmer. She's tall and willowy and thin as a needle.

Marvel, the boy tribute is even taller.

The next chariot rolls out.

Flickerman and Templesmith narrarate more on the tributes' stylist, but I don't listen. I focus on the tributes, Cato and Clove. Both are equally strong and muscular looking. They look quite fit and brutal, as well as cocky and full of themselves.

I don't pay too much attention to the other tribute chariots until District 11 comes onscreen. The tributes are so different from each other, it's astounding. The girl, Rue, looks to be about twelve and small and nimble. She reminds me of Prim. The boy, Thresh, is a giant in comparison. He must be well over six feet tall.

Then the District 12 chariot comes into view. The crowd is going insane with awe. Katniss and Peeta are on fire; literally.

"Mommy, look!" Sill exclaims, pointing to the screen. "Peeta's on fire! Peeta's on fire!"

"That stylist is going to kill them before they even step foot in the arena!" Ravine scoffs in disgust.

I stare closely at the costumes. The fire's color is too bright and it doesn't move across the fabric the way it should.

"I think it is synthetic fire," I say in disbelief.

"How is that possible?" says father in wonder.

"Are you sure, Loretta?" mother says.

"Yeah. Look at the way it doesn't dim when the wind blows. And the color is too bright. It's not setting anything else on fire."

Katniss waves and blows kisses to the crowd. The people go crazy. The camera zooms in on Katniss and Peeta's fingers intertwined.

Ravine turns and raises her eyebrows at me with a smirk. She seems to be taunting me saying, _what, does this bother you, Loretta? Does Katniss need to let go?_

I wave off her curiosity as if I don't care. I care about Peeta because he's my best friend, but it's not just that sort of care. I do have a crush on Peeta. I'm putting that in the back of my mind as screaming girls chant his name.

The camera focuses on his face, smiling and waving with his hair shining. The fire flickering sets off the bright blue in his eyes. Boy, do I miss him right now!

"Wow, would you look at that!" Flickerman says in astonishment. "Would you look at that! Cinna and Portia are absolute geniuses! These two young people are so confident; they set the whole look ablaze! Those are true Hunger Games tributes!"

The chariot comes to a halt in the victor's circle with President Snow (the head of Panem) in front.

President Snow, whom I unaffectionately call the Bloody Rose, is a vile, despicable man. I loathe the very cells of his being.

All of the tributes flash across the screen...the Careers, the District 5 female tribute who I've nicknamed Redeyes, Thresh, Rue...Katniss and Peeta...Peeta. My heart aches to see him there and, soon to be, in danger of dying.

President Snow finishes his speech to the tributes and the residents of Panem. The tributes exit in their chariots. I see the back of Peeta's head go into the tunnel and the television screen fades to the symbol of Panem. The television goes dark and turns off.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! (:**


	3. The Interviews

**Thanks so much to the one person who reviewed! (: It means a lot!**

**So I know Loretta is sort of Mary Sue-ish, and I'm sorry it is that way, so you'll see that she's not as much of a Mary-Sue as you might think. She does have a bit of a temper, which, as you'll see, is cooled by Delly and Peeta's kindness. But please tell me if it's not getting better!**

**One review=new chapter! **

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to Suzanne Collins' **_**The Hunger Games.**_

* * *

Chapter 3: The Interviews

My sickness is almost gone the next day, so I say goodbye to mother, father, and Sill and head off to school with Ravine.

I decend the back steps behind Ravine and glance up to see the Mellark Bakery. It might be the same one I see every day, but it is now a constant reminder of what will never be and who is lost...something that makes me remember the cruelty of our nation.

On the verge of tears, I turn away and trot briskly to catch up with Delly who has just left her house.

"Hey, Delly," I puff, stopping abruptly next to her.

"Hi, Loretta," she mutters.

Her head is down and her hair is loose. That's not like Delly at all. Delly is always smiling and friendly, always neat and put together each morning despite how she really feels.

"Delly? Are you alright?" I question.

Delly raises her head for me to see her face. Her eyes are red and puffy and she's crying a little. At first, I'm a bit confused. Then it dawns on me. My eyes begin to water.

"Peeta?" I say knowingly. She nods. We hug each other for a long time.

"I miss him too, Delly!"

"I hate to think of him in the Capitol being readied to die!"

Reality hits me hard in the chest. I pull away from the hug.

"Wait a minute," I say. "We can't be two stupid whiners!" Delly gives me a puzzled look. "We can't stand here and blubber over what might happen! We've got to believe Peeta can make it through this! We've been weeping and howling for too long. Don't you think we need to stop and support Peeta?"

"Yeah, you're right, Loretta," she agrees, wiping her tears. "We've spent too long focusing on the negative! We've got to look to the positive and realize that there's a chance something good can come out of this! Well, I mean not good, but...you know, having Peeta come back."

"Exactly," I reply. We begin to tread towards the schoolhouse. "I wonder what he's doing right now. Maybe he's in the training center-possibly with Katniss and-"

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" smirks Delly.

I sigh. "No, I was about to, but apparently that Peacekeeper didn't want me to. He swept me out of the the room before I could say a word about it...although, I did kiss Peeta's cheek."

"Really? Why did you go for his—"

"I didn't want him to find out that way. You know what I mean?"

"Completely."

* * *

The day at the schoolhouse seems to rush by...so do the next two days. Sooner than I know it, it is training scores day.

"LORETTA COME ON!" screams Ravine from the top of the stairs. I am in the shop mending an apron. "The television just turned on! The training scores announcement is going to be on any second now! HURRY!"

Trying not to prick my finger in the semi-dark room, I hurridly set down the soft apron, jab the needle back into the pincushion, and race up the stairs to the living room. My family is already seated. No one greets me as I plop down next to Sill on the sofa. She grabs my hand.

"Are we gonna see Peeta?" she whispers, her cute gray eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes," I confirm.

Sill squeals with delight.

"Yay! I gonna see Peeta!" cheers Sill.

The symbol of Panem pops up onscreen. A voice booms through speakers (most likely Caesar Flickerman's).

"The training scores."

A picture of the first tribute shows up on the screen. It is the female District 1 tribute, Glimmer. The score flashes below. It is a nine. Then Marvel comes up. He gets the same score.

This continues on through the districts. The Careers all score quite high; all in an eight to ten range. The highest anyone has scored is a ten, but the top score possible to achieve is a twelve. No one has even gotten an eleven.

Rue, the female District 11 tribute, pulls a seven.

"Wow, a seven! That's really good, considering she's so small," says Ravine in awe. "And isn't she only twelve?"

"Yeah," I say. "That is good."

Thresh gets a ten. No surprise there; he's more of a cement wall then a person.

"Peeta!" Sill cries, pointing excitedly to the screen. Sill is correct. Peeta's picture now dominates our television screen.

I sit on the edge of my chair, anxious to see what my best friend has accomplished.

Please be at least a six, I think. The number appears. Eight...eight, EIGHT?! YES!

We all cheer and jump around in surprise and elation.

"Yes! An eight!" my father whoops.

As we're all cheering, I notice Katniss's photograph slide onscreen. Everyone is still celebrating when her number is shown. I stare dumbfounded at the digit. Eleven...

"HEY!" I holler. My family stops. "Look, an eleven."

It is deathly silent in our house as my family stares at Katniss Everdeen's triumphant score. It wipes out all of those before her.

"Holy cheese buns," Ravine whispers in shock.

"Katniss has a good score?" asks Sill.

"Not just good," mother replies, "amazing."

"Yeah, amazingly deadly," I quip.

"What are you talking about, Loretta?" Ravine says in confusion.

"What I mean, is that the Careers will feel threatened by the ferocity of the score and will want to get her out of the way as early in the Games as possible," I explain. "She's going to have to be super careful."

"How do you know that?" says Ravine tartly.

"They go more in depth with us at school. And I've had to read books on the Games as extra credit for a history class."

The television set clicks off. Mother picks up Sill and exits the room. Father and Ravine file out after. Ravine turns out the lights as she leaves. I'm left sitting alone on the sofa in the darkness of the room.

I silde onto the floor and sit cross-legged with my elbows propped on my knees, thinking about Peeta and the Hunger Games.

Where is Peeta now? Celebrating his eight? Celebrating Katniss's record breaking, history-making eleven? What does he think of her now? What will happen when they get into the arena?

These questions go unanswered. Most of them will probably stay that way.

I get up and decide to go back down to the shop to do some late night work. That apron is due for pickup in a couple days and I'm already down a couple of pieces of work anyway.

I go down to the back room and try switching on the lights. They don't turn on. I look out the window. The rain is thundering down. The power must've gone out after the television turned off.

I light a couple of candles and sit back down with my work.

Suddenly, I hear a soft tap on the front door of the shop. I quickly put down the apron and needle and take a candle out to the front of the shop. I slowly tread to the glass door. The candle casts odd shadows all around. The dim glow given off by the candle lights up a face at the door, a boy's face.

It's Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen's best friend. He has a game bag slung over his shoulder. It is very unusual to see him in this part of the district. His gray eyes are luminescent in the night.

I unlock the door and let him in.

"Hi, Gale."

"Hello, Loretta."

"What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"Trading. I was out at the mayor's and thought I'd stop by. I have some leftover strawberries."

Gale and I have a strange relationship. We were sort of friends around the time I met Peeta. Our fathers were good friends until the mining incident. Gale's father was killed.

To be honest, I kind of left him in the dust to be with Peeta and Delly. I apologized later so we are still sort of friends, but we don't talk much. I hear a lot about him at school. Other girls whisper things about him. I hear it a lot from those from the merchant's side of the district. I don't blame them. Gale is a good-looking guy. His gray eyes are so bright, they seem to shine.

"Thank you," I reply. "I love strawberries."

"I know. You loved them even when we were kids," says Gale. He sets down the bag and pulls out a clump of strawberries in a net.

"What would you like for it?" I ask as I go over to the counter and pull out some items for him to see. "How about...two spools of thread and a couple of needles?"

"One spool and two pincushions," he barters.

"Done," I say. I slide him the two pincushions. "What color thread?"

"Brown, please," says Gale. I crouch behind the counter and dig through all of the other colors.

"Here you are," I say, setting down the spool of brown thread. He hands me the strawberries. "Thanks."

As I start to head back to put the strawberries in our old beat up refrigerator, Gale stops me.

"Hey, Loretta?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever need anything, you can count on me."

"Thank you," I say gratefully, smiling. He grins back, a rare sight that would send many other girls swooning.

Gale leaves and I lock up the shop.

After putting the strawberries in the refridgerator, I go to bed.

Just before I fall asleep, I think of what will happen tomorrow. Tomorrow are the tribute interviews and then the Games start the very next day.

I remember Rue's impressive seven, Peeta's accomplished eight, and Katniss's unmanageable eleven.

Ugh...the Hunger Games...the worst part isn't the bloodbath at the cornucopia that takes place in the first hours in the arena, it's watching the tributes from your district die and the others getting picked off one by one. It is most likely a Career that will win. They are the dominant predators in the Games, but that doesn't mean, once in awhile, they can't be the prey, right?

* * *

The tribute interviews are this evening. I head over to Delly's house to watch with her family. We're both excited to see Peeta. I'm also perplexed to see what the tributes will be wearing. I know it sounds shallow, but I'm a seamstress's daughter, remember?

Delly, her family, and I sit down to watch the interviews.

The screen flickers to life, bearing Oandems's emblem, then fades to black. The screen is then filled with the Capitol buildings. The _words The 74th Hunger Games: Tribute Interviews_ pop up onscreen. Claudius Templesmith's voice introduces the program.

"Welcome to the 74th Hunger Games: Tribute Interviews!" he announces.

The picture zooms to a view of the City Circle.

The tributes file onstage. At the end of the line, I see Peeta in a flame accented suit. I pay no attention to Katniss or any other tribute.

Caesar Flickerman bounds onstage in his traditional sparkling, midnight blue suit. Flickerman always has a different color for each Hunger Games. This year he has his hair, mouth, and eyelids a powder blue. Last year it was a crimson red. Let's just say when Delly, Peeta, and I saw him that year, we almost screamed. It looked like he was bleeding!

Thankful of the color change, I watch Flickerman sit down in a comfy armchair beside a second empty seat. He tells a few jokes to warm up the audience.

Soon enough, Glimmer, the female tribute of District 1, processes forward. All of the tributes seated in the semi-circle stare as shw walks. The live Capitol audience whistles and speaks in hushed tones. She is gorgeous. Glimmer's dress is gold...and also partly transparent. It gives the illusion of looking through golden fogged glass. I wonder what material was used...

I look to Delly. She rolls her eyes as she sees her older brother's eyes glued to the television set. I giggle and watch as Flickerman interviews Glimmer. Her buzzer sounds and Marvel struts to the front of the stage.

The districts go quickly by. The tributes from District 2, Cato and Clove, are heartless, bloodthirsty killers...the female District 5 tribute, Redeyes, is mysterious but intelligent...then Rue from District 11 is interviewed.

Being so small, Rue's toes barely skim the shiny stage floor. When she strode down from her seat, she seemed to almost float. Her stylist put her in a gown that looks to be made of gossamer with wings that fluttered.

Flickerman is kind and congratulates her on training score.

"I'm very hard to catch. And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me," says Rue, trembling with her quiet voice. "So don't count me out." Flickerman encourages her.

"I wouldn't in a million years," he replies. Rue glides her way back to her seat and Thresh, the male District 11 tribute, takes her place next to Caesar Flickerman. I don't pay him much attention. He answers all questions with a yes or no.

The buzzer sounds and Katniss stands. Once she moves into the blazing spotlight, I really get a good look at what she's wearing: a jewel dress. It is the most magnificent craftmanship of a gown I've ever seen. The jewels are red, orange, yellow, and blue. Even her skin shimmers and sparkles. It makes her seem like she's on fire.

Delly nudges my arm. I realize my jaw is hanging loose. Oops. I guess I got a bit mesmerized by Katniss's gown! But who can blame me? It is undeniably stunning!

I turn back to the interview. I'm definitely paying attention now!

Katniss is now seated by Flickerman.

"So, Katniss," he begins, "the Capitol must be quite a change from District 12. What's impressed you the most since you've arrived here?"

Katniss is mute, a blank look dancing in her eyes. She suddenly recovers after looking into the crowd. Nerves, maybe?

"The lamb stew," she states. Flickerman and the audience chuckle at the statement.

"The one with the dried plums?" Katniss nods. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful." Caesar turns and addresses the Capitol audience. "It doesn't show, does it?" The audience responds by confirming it does not. He turns back to the District 12 tribute.

"Now, Katniss, when you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

Katniss pauses.

"You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" she asks.

Everyone gives her a hearty laugh.

"Yes," Flickerman chortles, "start there."

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either. I mean, look at it!" Katniss gushes, spreading out her skirt.

Then she stands and twirls. The crowd cheers and cheers. Katniss Everdeen is on fire. She suddenly halts.

"Oh, do that again!" says Flickerman in astonishment.

So Katniss spins and spins as the audience shouts insanely with glee. She stops, looking dizzy.

Filckerman puts into words what's on most of our minds.

"Don't stop!"

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" giggles Katniss.

Flickerman puts an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he says. "Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps."

Delly and I laugh as the screen switches to Haymitch. He shoos away the cameras and points to Katniss.

Flickerman asks about her training score as they sit down once again.

"Um...all I can say is that I think it was a first," she responds, her cheeks turning a bit pink. The cameras switch to nodding, laughing Gamemakers.

"You're killing us. Details, details," Flickerman says as if in agonizing pain.

Katniss addresses the balcony where the Gamemakers are situated. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

"She's not!" cries one.

"Thank you. Sorry." She turns to Caesar. "My lips are sealed."

"Let's go back then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping and you volunteered," says Flickerman, becoming more serious. "Can you tell us about her?"

I expect Katniss not to say anything. Prim and Katniss are quite close. I can tell she doesn't want to talk about Prim at all to any person there, but she answers the question anyway.

"Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."

"And what did you say to her? After the reaping?"

"She asked me to try really hard to win."

"And what did you say?"

I can tell the audience is hanging on to every single letter of every single word Katniss is saying. For a moment, she is noiseless. She answers; her voice lower and less audible.

"I swore I would."

"I bet you did," Flickerman replies sympathetically. The loud buzzer sounds. "Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District 12."

Katniss stands, dress glowing, audience roaring, and takes her seat in the back.

I smile. Katniss did a good job of getting people to like her. I'll bet she hates being there. During the pre-Hunger Games prep, it's almost like being a pig raised for slaughter.

"Hey, Peeta's standing! It's his turn!" Delly says excitedly, watching Peeta tread over to the chair where Katniss just was sitting.

Flickerman inquires after Peeta's roots. "So Peeta, I've heard through the grapevine that you're a baker's son. What's that like?"

"It's different."

"How so?"

"I'm sure not many male tributes here that can claim they spent most of their childhood learning how to make the perfect frosting flower," explains Peeta. He works a laugh out of the crowd and even Flickerman himself.

"Well, Peeta, what is your impression of the Capitol? More importantly, it's bread?" says Flickerman.

Peeta gives a half-hearted chuckle. "The Capitol is very different from home, that's for sure. As for its bread, it's also not very similar to the District 12's breads either."

"How so?"

"There are a lot more sweet rolls and pastries here. And what's funny is that at dinner they always serve each district's signature bread. It's sort of ironic, really, because a lot of the tributes are like their district's bread," Peeta states. "The District 2 tributes are rough and quite hard to get through to. Their bread has a hard crust, and rough center, just like them. It's a lot of the same things with the other tributes."

"And what about the Capitol?" urges Flickerman.

"As for the Capitol, it's not too bad. But I'll admit, the showers are pretty strange," Peeta replies, folding his hands and leaning his elbows on his knees casually.

Caesar looks a bit puzzled, but amused. "The showers?"

"Yes. Tell me, do I still smell like roses?"

Peeta leans over and lets Caesar sniff his suit. Then Peeta smells Flickerman. They make funny little comments like "Yes, you do indeed smell flowery" and "No, you smell more like a pansy or a daisy" or "Do daisies even smell that good?"

Delly and I crack up. Delly's family snorts and laughs at the spectacle of Peeta and Caesar Flickerman inhaling each other's bodily odors. Even the audience in the Capitol is getting a hoot out of having the two up onstage smelling each other.

"Tell me, Peeta, you must have a girlfriend at home, no?" asks Flickerman.

Peeta pauses, hesitating, then shakes his head. It's not convincing.

I see Delly's head turn toward me in my perifrial vision. I look at her and she nudges me with a sly smile. Oh...she must think Peeta likes me. I just point back to the television interview.

"Handsome lad like you," continues Flickerman, "There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

"Well," sighs Peeta, "there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

"She have another fellow?" Flickerman asks sympathetically. Peeta shrugs.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys like her."

"So here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't say no to you then, eh?"

Flickerman nods to the cheering audience. They seem to agree with his suggestion.

Peeta, however, shakes his head again.

"I don't think that's going to work out. Winning...won't help in my case." Flickerman looks at him curiously.

"Why ever not?" he inquires.

"Because...because..." stammers Peeta, turning as pink as the crushed crimson velvet his seat is made out of. "She came here with me."

The audience gasps. Even Caesar is surprised. The other tributes are either laughing or in astonishment.

The cameras are focused on Katniss. She's blushing just as much as Peeta.

I don't turn to see Delly's family's reaction. At this point, I'm not sure if I really want to see their mouths hanging open, waiting to catch passing flies.

"Oh," murmurs Flickerman, "that is a piece of bad luck."

"It's not good," says Peeta weakly.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn't know?"

"Not until now," Peeta confirms. Katniss is back onscreen still blushing profusely. Caesar asks the Capitol residents present if they would like to get Katniss back out onstage for her response. He kindly tells them that her time has already been spent.

"Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours," says Flickerman.

The crowd is screaming and shouting so loud it booms through the speakers and shakes the floor. Peeta has just made us all forget every other tribute's boring interview, except maybe Katniss'. His has definitely been the most memorable of them all.

Peeta mutters thanks and briskly walks back to his chair.

The anthem plays and all on the television set stand. The cameras constantly rest on the District 12 tributes. Then the screen fades to the Capitol seal and goes dark.

Delly's family quietly files out of the room.

Once they're all gone for good, I turn to Delly. On her face is a shocked expression. Her storm cloud blue eyes are wide with surprise.

"What's up with you? Are you stunned to find out that Peeta doesn't like me?" I say a bit snappishly.

"I could have SWORN he liked YOU not KATNISS!" Delly jumps up exclaiming.

"He doesn't. At least that's what I thought for awhile but..." I sigh.

"But what? Neither of you have ever told me about this. Why haven't you guys told me?" Delly asks, astonished.

"Remember that summer where Peeta and I were inseperable?"

"Yeah, you two were almost joined at the hip! You were always together."

"He sort of kind of confessed he liked me," I confess quickly.

"WHAT?! How come you never told me? We're all best friends. We tell each other everything," says Delly.

"I know. I'm sorry. We've just never really wanted to talk about it...to anyone," I reply.

"Wait, how did you know he likes Katniss? He told you and not me?"

"He didn't really tell me to be exact..."

"Then how do you know? Other than he just announced it on national television, but how did you know before?" Delly questions.

"I sort of saw it."

"You saw it?"

"Yeah."

"No offense, but that doesn't make any sense at all."

"Just listen and it will."

Then I tell her all about that blustery day when and unselfish Peeta gave a starving Katniss bread for her and her family.

"That is just like him," Delly comments, giving a small smile.

"I know," I say. "I was going to give her a coat, but Peeta's gift was much more sensible. You can't exactly eat clothes." Delly giggles.

I sigh and lean my head back against the couch. We're both quiet for a moment.

"What are you thinking about, Loretta?" says Delly softly.

"The Peeta-giving-Katniss-bread day, the Hunger Games, the arena, the tributes...the death of the tributes," I respond.

"I get what you mean," Delly says, "I hate seeing people get killed just as much as you do. It breaks my heart to think about the families and friends that have to go through with watching that person die."

I think about what she just said. I crack up.

"What?" Delly asks.

"That heart break line you just fed me sounded sort of cheesy," I snort.

"Well sor-ry! I'm just saying what's on my mind," she protests. "What sucks so much about watching this year's Games is that people we actually are friends with and care about are in them. They could die, Loretta! D-I-E."

I stop laughing.

"I know. That's what's bothering me so much," I say quietly.

"By the way, I still think you should've told Peeta," Delly says slowly, trying to make sure I don't erupt into a fireball.

"Told him what?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean."

I start pacing the room.

"Loretta? Stop pacing around! You're making me nervous. When you pace you're concerned, and if you're concerned, I usually get concerned. Then we all become con-" Delly says.

"Look, I know I should've told him. I regret it now. But I've got this feeling...a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach saying Peeta will be home again. I know it sounds completely and utterly insane, but...I don't know..." I confess. "He's coming back. Don't ask me why. I just feel like he can do this."

"I absolutely agree with you. I feel the exact same way," confesses Delly.

"Seriously? Are you sure you're not messing with me?" I ask suspiciously.

"Dead serious."

"I am so glad you told me! Honestly, I'm relieved. I thought I might just feel this way because I have a crush on him." I glance up at the clock on the wall. "Hey, I better get going."

I stop my anxious pacing and grab my light coat.

Delly and I say goodbye and I leave.

As I cross the town square to home, I wonder how the heck I'll sleep tonight knowing Peeta and Katniss are only hours away from facing the threat of the arena.

I can barely eat my dinner tonight (rabbit stew all thanks to Gale). The rabbit keeps getting stuck in my throat.

I excuse myself, let my family divide up my leftover stew, and leave the room.

I climb the rickety winding stairs to the flat roof of our house. My light cotton dress gets caught in a summer breeze and floats around my ankles. My knees are curled up as I sit on a crate that rests in the corner of the roof.

I sit and think about what will happen tomorrow. Will Peeta survive the bloodbath at the cornucopia? Will Katniss kill him? Will Katniss get killed? Does she care about Peeta the way he cares about her?

I fall asleep asking myself these questions; knowing none of them will be answered until tomorrow when the Games begin.

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**I hope you enjoyed it! (:**

**If you would, please go check out my two other HG fanfics, The Beginning (it's an SYOT about the very first Games that's much better than this one) and Forever Haunted: the Story of the 66****th**** Hunger Games.**


	4. Not Just a Game

**Hello everyone! Great to have you reading this fanfic! **

**So the Games start in this chapter and it should be quite a show (even though you already know the end result). There will be many things happening to Loretta while the Games go on, so keep coming back for more story!**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter. (:**

**Sing Out!**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to Suzanne Collins's **_**The Hunger Games **_**trilogy.**

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Chapter 4: Not Just a Game

I'm in our shop hand stitching a kerchief when the Games start. I can hear the gong go off. I just can't stand to watch the bloodbath at the cornucopia.

When I glance up to see if anyone is out on the streets, I see a couple of Peacekeepers stride by on patrol. Uh oh, I'd better get upstairs. The television in the back roon might be on, but I'm not going into the back room right now; and I don't really want to. We're required to watch the Games. The Peacekeepers can actually come into the house and make sure we're seated in front of the television set for the first three hours. I should probably go upstairs where my family is.

Once I'm up there, I see my family huddled around the television set. Sill's eyes are covered by my mother's hands. Sill is trying to pry my mother's fingers off her face to peek out at the action on the screen. Ravine and father stare intently at the screen, sometimes wincing and flinching at what they see. Mother is looking at Sill who is shouting, "wanna see Peeta!"

I sit down and lean up against the arm of the sofa.

Onscreen, the bloodbath is horrific.

I look up just in time to see Katniss sprint off into the woods with a bright orange backpack that sprouts a knife. I'm slightly relieved. If Peeta can't win this thing, I hope Katniss can.

There's a shot of Glimmer, the girl from 1, taking down the girl from 9. Cato has a sword and is slashing his way through a couple of tributes...I believe they are both from 6. Clove throws knives, hitting the boys from 7 and 8. A lot of the tributes are putting up a good fight.

Peeta is in the mix of it all, dodging falling tributes and weapons.

_Hurry, Peeta!_ I think. _Get out of there before the Careers find you! Run! Come on! RUN!_

He grabs a pack and starts for a nice sized knife, but Clove's blade catches his upper arm. He trips and falls, clutching his arm. Clove starts to go finish him off, but another tribute, possibly the girl from 7, runs past and catches Clove's eye. Peeta takes the chance to scramble to his feet and grabs the slender knife. He tucks it in his belt and takes off in the same direction Katniss went.

Suddenly, the boy from 9 tackles him, sending them both flying to the ground and landing with a loud thud. They struggle for a moment, hitting and punching each other. Peeta reaches for the dagger at his belt. The other tribute quickly snatches the blade and raises it above Peeta's chest, about to stab Peeta and end his life.

My eyes sting and fill up with tears. I place my head on my knees and brace myself for Peeta's scream. It doesn't come.

I look back up at the television screen. There is a knife handle sticking out of the District 9 boy's back. Clove is posed as if she just threw a knife. She reaches into her jacket for more.

Peeta shoves the dying tribute off of him and takes his knife, then runs back toward the cornucopia to get a backpack. He thankfully is able to sneak past the battles and grabs a pack.

The screen switches to Katniss jogging through the woods.

Rue is shown scaling a tree in the deep forest.

Thresh is out of the bloodbath and in the field of long grass...or is it wheat?

The Careers are still battling at the cornucopia. The war is almost over. Bodies of tributes litter the ground. Peeta is hiding out in the cornucopia. He makes a run for it. He bolts out of the cornucopia entrance towards the woods.

Clove pulls out a knife and is about to throw it when a hand grabs her wrist. It's Cato.

"What are you thinking, Cato?! I can kill him now! It's one less tribute to deal with later. Now let go!" Clove demands.

The Careers re-group. They always gather for a strategy meeting after the bloodbath.

Peeta is shown scurrying behind a boulder in the woods. He's not far from where the Careers are gathering. He is constantly looking around the edge of the huge rock to make sure no one has followed him.

Cato and Clove appear again.

"He can lead us to Katniss. She's the most deadly. The quicker we get rid of her, the better. After Lover Boy leads us to her and she's dead, we kill him," says Cato slyly.

"Yeah, right," says the girl from 4. "You really think that pathetic Lover Boy can help us? I'm with Clove; let's just kill him now."

Cato raises his sword menacingly.

"If you don't want to follow my plan, I'll kill you," he threatens. "Now, come on, let's find Lover Boy."

Peeta appears onscreen again. He's sorting through his pack. There's a shot of everything that he's already taken out. A giant water bottle, a rope, a plastic container, some crackers, and a blanket lay on the ground.

Cato and the rest of the Careers silently approach the boulder that Peeta is behind. Peeta hears Marvel's foot crunch down on a branch. Cato has his sword out and Clove brandishes a long slender blade.

Peeta pulls out his knife and jumps up. He quickly kicks the knife out of Clove's hand. She falls in the process. Peeta stomps his foot down on her chest, blocking access to her knife collection. His knife is aimed at the girl from four's throat. Cato puts his sword near Peeta's heart and Marvel's spear is just about touching Peeta's back.

"You make one move on any of us, and you die, Lover Boy," says Cato menacingly.

"Fair enough, Cato," Peeta says calmly. "By the way, before you kill me, you might as well let me show you the way Katniss went."

"That's exactly what we were going to do," Cato says. He slides his sword back into its sheath. "We've come to recruit you."

"Remove your foot from my person, dirtbag," Clove demands. Peeta puts his knife back into his belt loop and steps off Clove.

"Recruit me?" Peeta asks suspiciously.

"That's right," says the girl from four.

"Pipe down, Rive," Cato tells her. She makes a disgusted face and rolls her eyes. "Anyway," Cato continues, "you're coming with us. Now tell us the way that girl went." Peeta points in the direction Katniss took off to. "That way."

"It better be, or we'll kill you. Any one of us would have fun killing you. And believe me when I say that it will not be a fast way to die," warns Cato.

Peeta nods and they take off into the forest.

"WHAT is he DOING?!" Ravine cries. Her voice pulls me back to the reality that is me sitting on the floor watching Peeta join the Career pack.

The cannons on the television boom as they tell how many have been slaughtered during at the cornucopia.

"Who knows," I say as I shake my head in disbelief.

We all keep watching.

The sun is beginning to set here in District 12 and in the arena. Peeta and the Careers move along as the sun goes down on the horizon.

The cameras decide to switch to Katniss. Her pack, luckily, had a sleeping bag. She's strapping herself into the tree...clever.

Then I see Redeyes (the girl from 5) hiding out in a hole at the base of a tree trunk. The little burrow is camoflaged by thick foliage.

The girl from District 8, whose name I think is Calico, is creeping around with a teeny backpack and a large walking stick, most likely found in the woods. She has a large slash in her pants, suggesting Clove's knife found her, or she was caught in pricker bushes. I guess she never got a weapon from the cornucopia.

Then the screen shifts to who I believe is Rue. The tribute is so high up in the trees, it has to be her.

The boy from District 10, the one with the limp, hides in thick brush, trying to blend in with his surroundings and survive.

Now the "sky" in the arena is shown. The faces of the dead tributes light up the forest. District 3 girl, District 4 boy (a Career? That's not normal...), District 5 boy, both from 6 and 7, District 8 boy, both from 9, and the girl from 10. At least some of the tributes didn't go down without a fight.

The screen flashes to different tributes again. Thresh in the field, Rue in the tree, Katniss in her sleeping bag, the boy from 10, the boy from 3, RedEyes, the girl from 8, and the Careers which include both from 1 and 2, Rive from 4, and Peeta.

Most of the tributes are trying to find a place to rest for the night. The Careers will most likely be hunting Katniss tonight. They won't stop until they find her and will kill anyone that gets in their way.

Unfortunately, whenever we're in here or anywhere else with a television, we'll be able to witness the vulgarity of the Games. The television stays on the entire time the Hunger Games are going on.

During supper, we sit in silence, listening for any chaos that might happen on the TV.

I finish my food and grab a shop project to work on while I sit in front of the television to watch the Games.

"Has anything happened?" mother asks as she sits down next to me. She's holding an apron that needs to be mended. We must have had the same idea.

"Not yet," I reply.

Ravine walks in with one of Sill's torn doll dresses and a needle and thread.

Really? Do we all share the same brain or something?

Sill starts to color with colored wax crayons that father somehow managed to obtain. I have no idea where he found them (the Hob, maybe?), but it reminds me of when I was small; maybe five or six. It was a time when Peeta, Delly, and I would create 'dough boys and girls.' We would sit in the Mellark home and mold bread dough into little people. Peeta and Delly would make the people and I would form the clothing. Yes, I would make dough clothes. Peeta and Delly would finish and I would explain the colors and patterns of the pieces of clothing. Then we would all decide which person would wear what.

To be quite honest, Peeta voiced his opinion on the clothes very decidedly for a boy. I was the one who fashioned the clothes on the dough children. And sometimes I would just roll out a big mound of dough into a ball and squish my hand into the center to make a handprint.

One time, I rolled a ball of dough so large, all three of us smashed our hands in. After Peeta begging for a few minutes, Mr. Mellark even baked it for us.

I sit there on the sofa thinking of all the things Delly, Peeta, and I used to do together until mother decides that it's time for bed.

Once all of my family is settled down for the night, I creep out into the living room with a couple of blankets and a pillow.

The television is, of course, still on, with the volume turned down low as to not disturb anyone.

The Careers and Peeta are onscreen hunting down their prey, or, in other words, Katniss Everdeen.

Then the Gamemakers show other shots of slumbering tributes. This reminds me that sleep is probably a good idea.

I doze off on the sofa, nodding in and out of a light snooze.

I wake in the wee hours of the morning. It's three a.m.

I groan and glance at the television. The girl from eight has set up a small campfire.

There's a shot of Katniss in the trees rolling her eyes in disgust.

That girl is really stupid. Setting up a campfire at night radiates light and smoke that will be clearly visible to anyone in a two-mile or more radius. Is she asking to be killed?

I fall back asleep for a few hours.

When I wake, it's about five in the morning.

I blink rapidly and look to the television set to see if Peeta is dead yet.

The girl from eight prods her fire with a stick and adds some dry leaves. Her eyes droop and her head nods. The stick falls from her hand as she flops sideways to the ground, sound asleep.

I chuckle half-heartedly as she snores quietly.

After a second of the girl sleeping, the screen switches to the Careers. Peeta walks with them, arm now bandaged and galloping along in a limp. Poor Peeta!

Wait, what I am I saying? He joined the Careers and betrayed Katniss! Well, actually, I'm not sure if he _betrayed her_, per say...maybe—dishonored the district? I don't know! This just seems so out of character for him.

"Look! There!" shouts the girl from four. She points to the burning campfire of the girl from eight.

The Careers smile slyly and break into an excited run. Peeta's right in the middle, keeping up with Glimmer and Cato despite his limp.

The girl from eight wakes quickly as the Careers circle her. She panics as Cato holds up his sword in pleasure.

"Oh, no! Please don't kill me! PLEASE! I don't want to die!" she pleads, tears starting to stream down her face.

The Careers laugh and Peeta chuckles.

"It's a bit too late for that," Cato says in amusement.

Then he plunges his blade into her chest.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the girl screeches in pain.

This is the worst part of the Games.

The Careers compliment Cato on "such an awesome kill" and "how much fun was that, big guy?"

Peeta stands with his knife in hand, trying to get into the spirit of the Games.

"Twelve down, eleven to go!" yells Marvel in glee. All of the Careers except Peeta cheer.

They check her tiny pack for supplies.

"Nothing good here."

"Really? This is all the idiot grabbed?"

"Wow, you call _this _a weapon? More like a plastic fork."

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," Cato comments, hitting the fallen tribute with the flat side of his blade.

They walk on towards the tree Katniss is perched in. They stop about ten yards from the trunk.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Marvel says.

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," Glimmer speaks up.

"Unless she isn't dead," says the girl from four.

"She's dead," Cato confirms. "I stuck her myself."

"Then where's the cannon?" Clove challenges.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," Marvel suggests.

"Yeah, we don't want to track her down twice," Glimmer agrees.

"I said she's dead!" Cato bellows threateningly.

"We're wasting time!" yells Peeta, silencing the Careers. "I'll go finish her off and let's move on!"

I see Katniss's eyes widen as the Gamemakers show a glimpse of her in the tree. She must not have known Peeta joined the Careers. She rolls sideways off the branch.

I gasp, then realize that she's strapped in. She grips the tree with her legs and arms.

"Go on, then, Lover Boy. See for yourself," Cato barks.

Peeta nods and goes back to the campsite fo the girl from eight.

Peeta, what is wrong with you?

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**Hope you liked the chapter! It wasn't the best, I know. **

**One review=new chapter! (:**


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